


The Alley Bat

by Listentothelittlebird



Series: Code Bat [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Gothamites give nicknames to the Bats, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is a good brother, Jason Todd-centric, Jason returns to the fold, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listentothelittlebird/pseuds/Listentothelittlebird
Summary: Jason ran away from Gotham and formed the Outlaws. He had fun, but it was not supposed to last. His teammates soon left for their families. He figured it was time he did the same.Or: Jason Todd goes home.Rated T because of Jason swearing, and Fear Toxin hallucinations in part three
Relationships: Jason Todd & Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd & Tim Drake
Series: Code Bat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964452
Comments: 32
Kudos: 820





	1. Gotham’s Alley Bat

When Kori went back to outer space and Roy made the trek to Star City in hopes of reconciliation, Jason decided that it was time he, too, returned to his home.

Gotham never left him, not truly. His accent had toned down significantly during his stay with the League of Assassins, but slipping back into its gritty nature in the city’s underbelly was as easy as flashing his teeth.

It seemed that the Bat’s teachings never truly left him either, because he found himself packing away his normal red skull-helmet and brown leather jacket. The Red Hood was not a Robin - he was no longer under the protection of a myth. 

Red Hood had no ties to Gotham, and Jason would make sure it stayed that way.

Knowledge of the Joker’s previous names was out there, but generally ignored, either due to trauma or just plain negligence. It was easy enough to use the name outside the city without being linked back to his home, to his crude jab at his killer.

The first night a new vigilante appeared in Crime Alley, the man stuck to the shadows and spoke from the dark, just like the rest of them. His voice was low but not gravelly like Batman’s, and instead of a synthesised drone it held a familiar drawl that spoke of hiding in alleys and scavenging on streets.

The working girls, the street kids, the common thugs - they all started to recognise the marks of a new vigilante presence. A presence most intimately known by drug dealers, who were dragged into inky blackness with guns at their jugulars, greeted by a growling snarl at their ear, hissing _don’t sell to the kids_.

Then the gun nozzle would be gone, the presence would disappear, and the men would emerge with pale faces and trembling hands. The words spread like wildfire, beyond the poorer areas, to the point that no one in their right mind stood outside a school with packets in their pockets. The rumours maintained that this was the same man who delivered a duffel bag of heads to Black Mask.

Jason was rather pleased by this development.

What confused him was when even after this happened, when he saved people in back alleys and spoke from the hidden ledges above, how Gotham’s most wronged still seemed to be more at ease hearing the voice of a man like him, instead of friendlier voices, kinder voices.

He saved a fierce young woman who was fighting back the attempted robbery quite well, but was still being overwhelmed by numbers. The girl whirled on him as he shot his grapple up towards a perch, kept glaring up at him until he asked if she had a cellphone to call the cops. The moment he spoke, her razor-sharp expression softened, tight shoulders relaxing.

He asked her why.

“Y’re like us,” the woman scoffed, “Bat’s is ‘e first one, sure, but y’came from around ‘ere. It’sa given with tha’ accent of y’ers.”

“And ya ain’t scared? ‘Cause ya must’ve heard a’ what I did to them dealers.”

“Scared? I ain’t got nothin’ t’be scared of. Ya keep on kicking these asses for me,” she gestured to the floor of subdued assailants, “An’ I’ll be fine.”

“Y’er a man of the alley. Ya know what we’re like.”

Jason says nothing to that, giving only a contemplative hum.

“Cops should be comin’. Stay outta shit, lady,” he shifted audibly to signal his exit.

“G’bye, Alley Bat!” the woman yells upwards, and Jason smirks even as he disappears over the rooftop’s edge. 

~

He soon learns that Gotham’s East End has given nicknames to the city’s different vigilantes. For all their hiding, nobody could hide that they were not Batman.

Nightwing was loosely referenced as the Good Bat. The kinder, younger voice that soothed fears and anxieties, in a way that Batman’s ruggedness struggled to manage. A “good cop”, who talked from the dark rooftops down to the honest officers in police jargon whenever they arrived on the scene of a larger clean-up.

He flew much more than Batman himself, sure, but his dark suit and shared fighting styles was enough indication to the public that he was not the Bat, but close enough. Jason knew the suit Dick wore in Gotham would not help to curb that name: black against a navy blue V, the bird’s head an impression more than a clear symbol, finger-stripes barely visible under the dim lighting.

With the Titans, his blue bird was brighter, and confined to his chest as a solitary insignia. Its shape was more pronounced, more recognisable. Jason did not doubt that the design choices were on purpose.

Tim, he learnt soon after, was the Young Bird. Dick’s name used to be just Robin, the first of them all, but the people knew that Tim was different. 

Jason dare not pry into what the second Robin was called.

Instead, he focused on the name he had been given just recently: Alley Bat. Only appearing in the East End, fighting like the Bat, but shooting like a sniper. Jason listened through the grapevine with growing satisfaction. The people he was protecting - they liked him, even if they had no idea what he looked like.

It was not long before the first Bat came looking for him.

What shocked him was not that they found him, but rather, who found him.

Timothy Drake sat on the couch of his safehouse with a laptop perched on his lap. He had already changed out of Robin clothing, which just meant this was planned, above all else.

Of course it was. His successor looked to be as paranoid as Bruce.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to walk into your would-be-killer’s apartment?” Jason drawled, stomping glumly into his safehouse even as he stripped off his jacket, laying it across his scratched-up coffee table alongside emptying his holsters.

Jason had settled on a red domino with white lenses and a faded maroon biker’s jacket over his plain black body armour. Timothy snickered as he pulled off the red cloth he had fashioned into a hood around his head, to conceal his white lock of hair.

Jason scowled at him, daring him to comment. Timothy remained silent, but the glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

Jason belatedly realised he was having a staring contest with the new Robin.

“Why are you here?” he accused, crossing his arms across his chest. In response, Robin shoved his laptop towards him, and he took it with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re… asking for help on a case?”

Timothy tilted his head to the side inquisitively, “It’s a case in the Bowery,” he pointed out needlessly.

At another blank stare, Timothy sighed, “Either I go ahead and drop in there myself, or, you and I can work something out? Since you frequent that area a lot?”

Jason wanted to ask so many questions.

_Why?_ Why come to him? Why trust him? Why seek him out?

Timothy must have sensed one of his many questions in his gaze, because he simply replied with, “You were a Robin - you’re a Robin. To me, that’s all the reason I need.” 

He smiled wryly, “Plus, even if you attack me again, hey, I get it. I took your name away, even though I never intended to make you think that. You have every right to hate me.”

That… was nothing like the response Jason expected.

Jason remained silent as he stepped towards the kitchen and started opening cabinets. He was delaying his response in the only way he knew how: ignoring the problem. Unfortunately, the problem had no intention of being ignored.

“Are you… cooking?” Timothy’s voice was unsure, hesitant, as if the casual inquiry was more risky than asking for help on a case. 

Come to think of it, that was probably how it seemed. The Red Hood was more prepared to take up a job than Jason Todd was to make conversation with… them.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jason shrugged, pulling out a cutting board and washing vegetables. He tilted his head at the younger boy and, for what felt like the first time, took in his smaller frame, which bordered on unhealthy. Jason wrinkled his nose.

“Does Alfie not feed you enough to get by? You’re built like a string bean.”

Timothy frowned, partially in confusion and partially in offense. “Alfred does feed me,” he declared forcefully. Too forcefully, really. Jason had barely looked up from the sink when Timothy’s shoulders slumped.

“I just forget to eat,” he admitted sheepishly, with a small shrug, “Whenever I’m too busy on a case, or when I’m doing schoolwork, or anything, really.”

Jason blinked at the boy lounging on his couch. For once, the boy’s position as Robin was dismissed in his mind as he scoffed.

“Okay. That’s not gonna slide. How does stir-fry sound?”

Timothy blinked dumbly. “What?”

Jason gave him a look. “Food, Timothy. Stir-fry’s fine then?”

A pause, then Timothy was nodding his head, “I- uh, sure.”

Jason went back to his cooking.

“Timothy’s pretty long,” Jason stated conversationally, “How does Timbo sound? ‘Cause I’ll die again before I use the same nickname as the Big Bird.”

Timothy winced visibly at the death joke, but Jason was still a brat, and took great delight in the desired reaction.

“Tim is fine. Dick and B only call me Timmy, and Alfred’s always formal.”

“Tim it is, then.”

Jason was, again, still a brat, and made it a point to call him Timbo as much as possible.


	2. The Sisters and Older Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets Stephanie, and Cassandra. His older brother also pays a visit.

The first time Jason met Stephanie, it was in a surprisingly domestic setting. Sure, he met Tim in his own safehouse, but that was at least for a case.

This? This felt a lot like… something a brother should be dealing with.

“And I know my mum’s trying and all, but she’s sometimes so, so overbearing. Like, yeah, I fight crime and crap, but no, I don’t need stitches every night!” Stephanie rambled on from where she had dramatically flopped across his long-suffering couch. Tim was listening with only half an ear, typing something on his holo-glove.

He looked up when Jason shut the window, something like relief flashing through his eyes so quickly it was hard to catch. Stephanie narrowed her eyes at Tim, then turned brightly to Jason. “Maybe you’ll be a better listener than Timbit,” she chirped.

“I can listen, but don’t you dare ask me for advice, because I’d just say blow them up.” 

Tim frowned in disapproval, having become unfortunately accustomed to casual mentions of his death. Stephanie, to his surprise, flashed a sharp smile that seemed out of place coupled with her bubbly personality. 

“Blow them up? I’ll do you one better and start another gang war,” she grinned viciously. Tim thumped his head on the couch with a groan.

Jason had learnt about Stephanie’s backstory from his successor. As such, he was prepared when the girl jumped to her feet and stuck a hand out to him, “Call me Steph. Do you want to join the Dead Robins Club? We currently have one member: yours truly!”

Jason wore a grin to match hers, shaking her hand firmly, “Ah, a membership I can get behind. Anything to bother the B-man.”

“Anything to bother the B-man,” Steph echoed, nodding sagely. Tim had slid down into a slump on the couch, holo-glove forgotten, staring at the exchange with mild concern. 

Spoiler was a vigilante that decidedly did not do stealth. That was probably why her stint as Robin was so short, as well. 

Her Robin had, unfortunately, been written off as a rebellious act of teenage angst. A young girl as a wannabe hero, who wanted to fulfill her dreams of being Robin, just like in the myths. 

Jason was careful to broach the subject, but Steph waved off his concern.

“Spoiler is my thing - it’s always been my preferred name, I think,” she shrugged, “It has personal significance, to me. Plus, I think purple suits me much better than red, green and yellow.”

Steph blinked, and met Jason’s eye with a soft smile, “I don’t know if you ever heard it, but we used to call you the Alley Kid. You had the accent and everything as Robin, and that’s the name that stuck. I find your current nickname is more than fitting.”

The moment would have been warm and pleasant, if not for Tim furrowing his eyebrows, with a mumbled, “Nickname?”

Jason barked out a surprised laugh, and found himself dissolving into chuckles at Steph’s shocked outburst, Tim looking like a child caught at the cookie jar.

His heart warmed, all the same.

~

Batgirl, the new one, dropped onto the rooftop beside him and swung a fist at his head. He barely had time to dodge before a kick was thrown his way, and soon they were caught up in a fast-paced sparring match.

Sparring, Jason knew, because not once had he seen a weapon in her hands. Not that Cassandra needed a weapon to kill him, but he also knew for a fact that Cassandra did not kill. If she was not even out to maim him with weapons, then she was doing what Tim had described to him: communicating, in the only way she had been raised to know.

The other birds claimed that Cassandra was making good progress in her sign language and speech, but that she sometimes still preferred a good match to express herself in. A spar was a conversation, was how Tim had phrased it. If there was anything Jason could do, it was to talk back. So he kept his guns holstered, kept his fists clenched, and fought on.

The spar was fierce, grueling, but not unpleasant. Cassandra moved with easy grace, too smooth for even Dick to copy, too deadly to be executed by anyone else. 

All at once, both sides pulled back, standing on either end of the roof as the silence engulfed the space between them. 

Cassandra lifted a hand to her full face mask, and pulled it down to show her asian features and soft, happy smile. There was a twinkle in her creased eyes.

“Cass,” she spoke her name, and made her personal hand sign, soft and careful, words and gestures slow and practiced. Then, with a theatrical bow, she leapt off the edge of the rooftop, letting herself fall out of view. The muted hiss of a grappling hook sounded moments later, a blur of black swinging away in the night.

~

The next person to rebuild bridges was his older brother.

Unlike the others, Dick Grayson knocked on his front door. It gave him a choice - whether to avoid him or to let him in. 

Jason swung the door open with a raised eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s wrong, Dickhead?” he tilted his head to the side, “Or is this one of your guilt-motivated check-ins?”

“No guilt,” Dick shook his head with a fond smile, “But I guess it is a check-in. I’ve been hearing from all the other kids, after all.”

Come to think of it, the others had been dropping hints about a possible visit from Big Brother. He would have to thank them, somehow. An extra cupcake for each of them, perhaps, the next time he baked.

“I guess you won’t just turn around if I slam this door closed, will you?” Jason was favouring one side, the other particularly banged-up side of his ribs supported by the doorframe, which he was leaning very gently against. He would hate to hurt Dick’s feelings if he actually needed help with something, but he was in no shape to go out and kick butt at the moment.

In response, Dick held up two worn casings for the Nintendo DS. “Thought I could interest you in a Mario duel,” he grinned. The expression faltered, “If you really do mind, then it’s alright, I…”

Jason sighed heavily, cutting off the young adult’s rambling. “Get in,” he gruffed, resisting the urge to groan as he raised himself to his full height. Dick frowned, unimpressed at the look of strain that graced his face.

It was no surprise that Dick needled him into showing him the injury only three games in. He reluctantly pulled up the hem of his shirt, expecting Dick to start Mother Henning like he always seemed to do, but instead the man simply clucked his tongue, asked a few questions on how he got the injury, how he treated it, and gave a light pat to the bandage, gently sliding his shirt back down to cover it.

“You’re a big boy now, Little Wing,” Dick smiled teasingly at Jason’s confused frown, “You’ve already survived on your own for this long. I’m sure you’d just feel insulted if I reacted like I used to.”

The shorter man ruffled Jason’s hair, and he ducked away, wrinkling his nose despite the smile threatening to show on his lips.

“Well then, I’ll feel particularly insulted if you push me into another Bullet Bill,” Jason huffed, starting the rematch just as Dick swiped up his handheld again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly realised while I was editing that I projected myself onto Stephanie and I can’t unsee it, Stephanie is me I can’t even
> 
> Next chapter is the angsty one so be warned - Fear Toxin is involved, but it ends in what I hope is comfort


	3. Fear Toxin and Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has started to work with the Bats again, but he refrained from interacting with them outside of uniforms.
> 
> Then he and Batman had to deal with Scarecrow.
> 
> FEAR TOXIN WARNING, DON’T LIKE DON’T READ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first real angsty chapter I’ve written for this series, so... I apologise in advance?
> 
> The last part is floofy again, if that helps :3
> 
> I marked off the “Fear Toxin” portion, the really rough bit anyway, if anyone just wants to skip it :))

Jason had begun indirectly working with Batman. Oracle had started making use of Jason in the roster of vigilantes every night, finally acknowledging him after the months that he had been silently listening to the comms, and answering calls for assistance by appearing and disappearing at the needed areas.

It was easier to do it when it was one of the younger ones.

Eventually, the number of times he helped Nightwing and Batman nearly evened out to the times he helped Spoiler, Batgirl and Robin. Of course, by virtue of numbers, he found himself with one of the younger kids more often than not.

He had yet to set foot back inside the Batcave, much less the Manor.

Then came one night when Batman and Red Hood were tracking down Scarecrow. 

“RH, guard the perimeter. I’m going in.”

Shortened names, mostly for anonymity, should anyone overhear their exchanges. Calling a Gotham vigilante a name well-known in the superhero community would be extremely compromising, after all.

“‘Kay, B. But if anything sounds wrong in there, I’ll join you in the party, alright?”

“Duly noted.” Batman’s voice was tinged in something close to emotion. Amusement, but also warmth. Jason rolled his eyes under his domino.

“Move in, ya big softie.”

A sweeping of the cape, and Batman was gone from the roof. Jason hunkered down at his perch, one hand hovering over a gun, the other on his grapple.

“How’s the old man doing, RH?”

Jason huffed, pulling a hand up to his comm as he replied, “Awfully quiet, N, obviously. How’s tracking down the Riddler?”

“Going well. Spoiler just found a new lead.”

“You could say that I spoiled the Riddler’s hideout!” 

Jason chuckled quietly, “Alright, Blondie, don’t get too ahead of yourself. Wait for the others.”

“Don’t worry,” Robin assured, “I’m with her. We’ll stay close.”

“Keep us updated, R, Spoiler.”

“Of course, O.”

The conversation ended, and Jason’s internal timer reached one hour just as a commotion began inside the warehouse. People were rushing out into the open, spilling out onto the docks. Jason quickly left an anonymous tip with the police, then provided the others on the comms with a description of the scene.

The last person stumbled out before the warehouse abruptly shut itself, the gleam of new, fortified doors obvious against the rickety structure of the abandoned building.

“O, I’m going in. Something’s wrong.”

He jumped even before he heard a response, firing off his grapple and landing on the roof. He had not missed the hissing of a gas canister. He quickly dug out his rebreather, biting onto it as he found an opening in the roof. He slid through easily, and took a moment to scan the floor below in infra-red.

Two bodies were on the floor. One was unmoving, unconscious, and the other was stock-still, standing like a statue.

Batman had subdued Scarecrow and rescued the civilians, but he had been doused with Fear Gas in the process.

Jason touched down on the warehouse floor as the gas began to clear. He spotted an empty needle on the floor, and assumed that Batman had already taken the antidote.

That did not make sense, though - if he had already taken the anti-toxin, he would already be moving, not stuck reliving past fears. His rebreather was across the floor, and Jason moved to retrieve it.

He tensed at a soft noise, swerving back around just in time to hurl a heavy punch into Scarecrow’s face.

The man cursed, pulling back and holding his nose. Jason cursed himself for not checking to see if the villain had been restrained, cursed through his rebreather as he spotted the syringe identical to the first in Scarecrow’s hand.

Batman had yet to take the antidote.

Jason fought quickly and efficiently, and this time, he made sure to zip-tie the rogue tightly. He paused briefly at the half-emptied syringe in the man’s hand.

_Stupid_ , he thought, even as he crushed the syringe under his boot, _you should know better than that, Jason Peter Todd_.

He turned back to the still-unmoving Batman, who had taken a full dose. Thought back to the first victim they had found that night, and realised that Batman had already used his anti-toxin.

He plunged his own antidote into Batman’s neck.

The man jerked back belatedly, but the syringe was empty. Jason bit his lip as his heart’s beating grew louder, shoving the retrieved rebreather into the Bat’s gloved hand before booking it out of the warehouse himself.

He gave himself ten minutes before the hallucinations would hit him full-force. Or, half-force, depending on how a half-dose of Fear Toxin would affect a person.

Turns out, a half dose meant the full effects were just delayed. Jason made it to his nearest safehouse within twenty minutes, and not five minutes later, the visions began.

It had been a while since he had experienced the effects of Fear Toxin. Partly because he always took the antidote on time, and partly because the last time he had been in Gotham, he had not dealt with Scarecrow at all.

He had expected the hallucinogen to bring back flashes of memories - his traumatic experiences, for one. Back when he was Robin, exposure to the toxin had brought on visions of Willis attacking him, and if not him, Catherine.

He sincerely wished that were the case, now. Jason blinked, and suddenly everything around him felt so, so real.

~ FEAR TOXIN WARNING ~

The Bats were bloodied, strewn across the floor before him. His family was bleeding out, leaving crimson puddles on the floor - the barren, concrete ground of a warehouse that bore too much resemblance to the one he had met an untimely demise in.

He fell to his knees next to the nearest body - it was Dick, his face ashen, mouth in an emotionless frown, so different from his sunshine smile - and hovered his hands over the wounds.

They were gunshot wounds.

His hands were covered in blood.

“No.” His breaths were short, tight puffs of air, and something in the back of his head told him to _breathe, breathe, Jay_ , but he looks over and he stops. Somehow he forgot that Dick was not the only body.

He tried to check Dick’s pulse with shaky, bloodied hands. There was nothing. His hand was cold.

He forced himself to look up and scan the others, looking for moving chests, signs of life, anything. They remained still, unmoving bricks. It was too late, for all of them.

At some point the tears had started falling, and at some point Jason had scrambled away from the corpses, away from what he had done, _he had done this_ , during what he could only assume was a fit of Pit Rage because of the gap in his memories.

He couldn’t breathe.

~ END OF FEAR TOXIN ~

“Jay. Jaylad.”

A hand at his shoulder. Jason flinched back, gasping. He thought he could see someone who looked like Willis, through the haze of his blurred vision. He threw a sloppy punch out, but it missed its mark by a longshot. 

The hand did not waver. It was as big as Willis’ hand, but it was also gentler, rubbing slowly up and down his upper arm.

“I need you to breathe, Jaylad.”

The voice had just enough command, and just enough familiarity, for Jason to try and obey, to suck in the breaths he had no idea he was missing. 

“I need to give you the antidote, alright? I’ll be quick.”

The words barely registered before a needle plunged into his neck, and something in his brain registered that usually was not a good sign, and he swung out a fist. The flimsy hit did collide with something this time, but it was ignored in favour of pushing the plunger down all the way, fully injecting whatever drug was being pumped into his system.

The visions cleared away. Jason blinked dazedly, gasping out a shuddering breath as he slumped over. Kevlar-fitted arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a loose embrace. The chest behind him rose and fell with long, drawn-out breaths, and Jason copied the breaths until he felt like he was back in his body.

“Br-“ Jason gulped in several more breaths of air, “Bruce?”

“I’m here, Jay. Whatever you saw, it’s not real.”

Jason let his head fall back onto the man’s shoulder, steadying his breathing. He noted from the corner of his eye that Batman had pulled his cowl down. It was Bruce Wayne, holding his son. At some point, his own domino had come off his face.

“It’s not real. It’s just the toxin. Let the antidote work it out of your system.” The voice was somewhere in between Batman and Bruce Wayne, a comforting rumble mixed with the softer tinges of emotion. There was still a hand rubbing his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes flicked towards the floor, but it was the carpet of his safehouse, clean and bloodless. His hands were gloved, black gloves. Clean gloves. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dad.” he had meant to say “B”, but the endearment slipped out before he could snatch it back. He could feel Bruce’s warm smile in his hair, his hood pushed back to fall around his neck.

“Yes, son?” the response rumbled out from deep within his chest. It was grounding, both his voice and the choice of words.

“ ‘m tired. G’night. Don’t - don’t leave.”

Bruce hummed softly. Jason curled into the Bat symbol as the man’s hold on him tightened.

“Goodnight. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jason drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I wanted the Fear Toxin to flashback to Jason’s death, maybe give off-hand comments about instead of Joker killing Robin, Joker killed Jason Todd, one of the Gothamites that Batman tries so hard to protect. Or give a comment about how Jason flew into Pit Rage beating Tim up, that he just barely kept himself from killing Tim.
> 
> In the end I changed it to this, because the price Jason has to pay for caring about his family is fearing their deaths. So much for this being a Jason appreciation fic.
> 
> Edit: I reread this and I realise the Fear Toxin part is somewhat similar to a fic I read, that is, envysparkler’s [non compos mentis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570203), except they did it WAYYY better than me, holy crap their work is incredible- anyway. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to rip-off anyone!
> 
> I’m not very good at writing whump and angst, so if you’re looking for that crap you can go look for that fic^^ 
> 
> As for me, my focus is more on the fam feels than anything else


	4. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason returns to the fold and, by the time he leaves Gotham, is sure of his place in the family.

Sleep was fitful, as it was every time one was exposed to Fear Toxin. He woke up several times, finding himself in the Batcave with Bruce by his side, smiling empathetically at him with bags under his own eyes. 

He blames his sleep deprivation on wrangling Bruce into sleeping beside him.

Bruce must have felt the cot was too small for the both of them - truthfully, it was - because by the time Jason awoke to late morning sunlight, he was in Bruce’s bed, with the man himself snoring peacefully beside him.

He slid out of the bed slowly, careful not to wake the slumbering Bat. He closed the door behind him quietly, nearly yelping when he looked up and found Cass beside him, tilting her head in question.

“I’m alright,” he assured, running a hand through his bed hair. He allowed himself a small smile, “I think cuddling helped both of us, actually. Don’t tell Dick.”

Cass smiled in return, and moved her hand in a zipper motion across her mouth, locking an imaginary lock and tossing away the imaginary key. She had learnt the motion from Steph, Jason knew, from the many times the blonde had done it herself. Jason shook his head with a soft chuckle, bopping the girl gently as he brushed past. 

It was a Saturday, and everyone was home.

Tim was half-asleep at the dining table, empty plate pushed to the side so that he could sprawl over and shut his eyes. There was an empty cereal bowl beside Dick, who was talking animatedly to the person bustling about across the counter, in the open-concept kitchen.

Jason slipped into the kitchen, deftly swiping the can of baked beans from the shelf before the other pair of worn hands.

Jason wrinkled his nose at the can, ignoring Dick’s happy greeting and the way Tim perked up in his seat. He met Alfred’s eye with a disgusted twist of his lips.

“B still likes this abomination?”

“Unfortunately,” Alfred replied dryly, betrayed by the twinkle in his eyes. Jason passed the can to the aged man, who surprised Jason by placing it down and wrapping his taller frame in a firm hug.

“Welcome home, Master Jason,” Alfred whispered quietly, words only for him and no one else.

The butler then pulled back and proceeded to frown, “I would think that you’d have visited earlier, if only for a cup of tea.”

Jason willed his sappy tears away, allowed the _I missed you, but I was scared of what you’d think of me_ to dissipate, and instead grinned brightly, “Sorry, Alfie. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Alfred hmphed. “You can start by helping me with Master Bruce’s breakfast,” Alfred decided.

Bruce soon entered the room, drowsy and sluggish, with Cass trailing behind him. He blinked dumbly at Jason moving about the kitchen beside Alfred, as if he had expected him to be long gone by the time he woke up. It was a reasonable prediction. Cass giggled, sweeping Jason into a short hug and snagging a bun from the counter before retiring to the dining table.

Jason smiled teasingly, “I’m full of surprises, old man.”

Bruce shook his head, smiling to match him as he settled at the head of the table, “I don’t doubt that, Jaylad. I’ll be glad to get to know you again.”

Jason turned away to hide his smile widening. He knew Bruce had still seen it, from the way he chuckled lowly into his coffee.

~

Slowly but surely, Jason started returning to the Manor. He would first have tea with Alfred, then proceed to loiter about, searching for signs of life. He sometimes ended up helping Tim with his homework - literature, in particular - and other times found himself teaching Steph to cook something more than waffles, with Cass watching from behind the counter. 

Sometimes, Cass would be the one looking for him, holding a storybook that she would then shove into his chest, pleading silently with wide eyes for him to read it to her. They would settle on a couch inside the library, Cass perched on the armrest beside him, peering down at the words as he read aloud.

Dick would coax him into co-op games, and if he lingered long enough, Alfred would set a place for him at dinner. He would always try and slink away, and it became a game for the rest of the family, a cat-and-mouse where he was the only mouse to be found.

Alfred always caught him.

He started leaving some of his gear in the Batcave, enough that he could suit up there if he wanted to. 

That day, they had all descended into the Batcave earlier than usual.

Tim looked openly excited. Cass was smiling. Dick was beaming. Even Steph was there, holding a phone that was recording his face, despite the many hidden cameras that most definitely could see him from all angles.

Batman pulled up a video feed of a museum. 

Some of Black Mask’s men were there, trying to get to an artefact on a pedestal. The screen buzzed and flickered at a sudden disturbance, and by the time the dust and shaking had settled, a newcomer was among the unconscious thugs, a battleaxe in her hand as the redhead strolled towards the display case.

She frowned down at the display - a bow that was blood red - before swinging her battleaxe and completely destroying the pedestal, bow and all. She strolled out of view, not bothering to either bind the criminals or call the police.

Batman paused the video, and rewound it to show the woman’s face.

“This is Artemis. Wonder Woman informed me that she is an Amazonian from a tribe that hails from Egypt, instead of Themyscira. From the moment she arrived in Gotham, she has been following Black Mask’s attempts to obtain a ‘powerful weapon’. The video showed one of the many failed searches. One of these attempts is taking place tonight.”

The location appeared on the large screen of the Batcomputer. Batman turned to face Jason.

“Artemis might not trust Batman, simply because he is affiliated with Wonder Woman. She seems to have a grudge against her. The Red Hood, however, is known to be unpredictable.”

Batman turned towards Robin, who eagerly shoved a brightly wrapped present into Jason’s hands. It was glittery purple, the ribbon a velvety red. Jason raised a bemused eyebrow from under his hood, but Robin was silent. He was bouncing on his heels in anticipation.

Jason ripped off the wrapping paper and removed the lid from the box. He startled at the box’s contents.

It was a new helmet - red skull with white slits, giving off a polished gleam as he pulled it out for an inspection. The helmet fitted more snugly than the last, and a mini computer screen popped up within the helmet the moment he put it on.

“Like it?” Robin questioned, excited and nervous all at once. Jason laughed, and swept the kid into a noogie. Robin squawked indignantly, but when he pulled away, he was smiling.

“This doesn’t mean you get access to my private comms,” Jason maintained, pointing an accusing finger his way, “The moment I have the time, I’m kicking you out of the comms I use outside of Gotham. You’ll have to work for your right to eavesdrop.”

Tim smirked at the clear challenge. Brat.

His vision was obscured by a brown blur. Jason pulled the leather from his face, holding out the light brown leather jacket that Dick had thrown at him. He felt around it and found hidden pockets, already filled with the Bat-assortment of gadgets, as well as some of his personal preferences, like rubber bullets and tasers.

Jason realised with a start that it had been a while since he had used real bullets.

“Is it to your tastes, sir?” Dick’s teasing shook him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the other Bats, his family, and chuckled.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He suited up properly, then turned to face Batman as he mounted his bike, “This Artemis person doesn’t seem bad. I’ll probably help her in whatever she’s trying to do, or whatever she seems to be looking for.”

Batman nodded, “I trust your judgement. Go with what you deem necessary.” He hesitated, before clasping his shoulder, “Good luck.”

Jason smiled under his helmet.

“I’ll make waffles when you come back!” Spoiler chirped. Batgirl glided up to him, poking him in the chest.

“Take care.” she tilted her head, choosing her words carefully, “Code Bat. Remember.”

“Yeah, I’ll use it if I need it,” Jason assured, “You make sure this house doesn’t burn down for me, alright? And keep Blondie out of trouble.”

“Hey!” Spoiler whined, even as Batgirl gave a parting pat on his helmet.

“I expect to see you well and healthy, next time we have a cup of tea,” Alfred stated firmly, even as the others mounted their own bikes, Batman hopping into the Batmobile. 

Jason grinned, “Don’t worry, Alfie. I know how to take care of myself.”

Engines roared, and Jason sped off towards the roads of Gotham, his family close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed reading! My take on the Bats is much softer than some renditions I’ve seen, and I have a feeling I’ll skip over a lot of those really angsty and awful incidents, like Jason beating up Tim and all the events of his first return, unless I find a way to work the situations into this au. 
> 
> (Edit: I worked it into the au :D in [Protect Our Own](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071438)!)
> 
> I may also be neglecting timelines a lot in the future, mostly the timeline of Tim’s superhero team involvements, because I can’t imagine red hoodie-wearing Alvin fighting crime with Young Justice in Robin’s place, since Robin is a myth...
> 
> Edit: found a way around Alvin’s identity problem! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yes this is a Jason appreciation fic as well as a little insight into how Code Bat affects the Batfamily’s operations in Gotham... they’re basically extra sneaky ninjas


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